Chapter Five
The Tula
Ben adjusted his tie in the mirror and watched as the door slid open to admit Astra Uel Ne Toban. She stepped over the threshold and, placing her hand over her heart, bowed.
“The Tula High Council requests your presence for the greeting meal, Senator Burton.”
Philip Burton stood and thanked her.
“Ben stop grooming; it’s time to go.”
Ben smiled. His father had decided to treat him with an offhand disregard in the hope that it would encourage Councillor Ladron to disregard him also. Ben wasn’t convinced that such a strategy would work. Councillor Ladron struck him as far too sharp to be taken in by such a ruse. However Ben intended to help as much as he could by displaying a far too cavalier temperament. If he could convince Councillor Ladron that he was interested in something a little more tangible than politics he might given the space he needed to discover the true state of Tula affairs.
With that in mind he turned from the mirror with the intention of winking at Astra. In this endeavour he was thwarted, for Astra's eyes were downcast and her words as she answered his greeting were directed at the carpet.
“If you are both ready I will take you to the Greeting Hall.”
As she straightened Ben caught sight of a glimmer of gold around her wrist. Her arm dropped back to her side and the grey of her sleeve slid down, cutting off his view.
They followed her down the corridor to the lift and filed in to the glass sphere. It was slightly squat in shape, bulging wider than it was tall. There was a clear glass bench across both sides and a frosted panel that only partially concealed the glowing wires that powered the control panel.
“Not the most private of lifts,” observed Ben, looking through to the glass wall that shut off the endless room the other side of the elevator shaft.
“In fact,” he continued, “nothing here seems to take privacy into account.”
Astra turned from the control panel and reached out a hand to touch the glass behind him. Immediately the surface clouded up to a milky, faintly opaque, white.
“All of the subsidiary offices are made up of glass cubicles that have opaque touch technology.” She turned back to the control panel. “The architect that designed Government Building wanted to reflect the transparency of the regime in his proposal. The opaque touch technology was added to give the workers the choice of privacy should they want it.”
Ben looked across at the rows of workers in their little glass cubicles. None had availed themselves of the facility to make their work space more private.
“Some choice.”
“I beg your pardon?” Astra turned, fixing her eyes upon him, her expression remaining blank.
“You seriously think those people in there have a choice?” he asked, leaning toward her and dropping his voice to an intimate whisper. “Can you imagine the disturbance one of those cubicles changing colour, even for just a second, would cause? There'd be pandemonium!”
Astra blinked several times and took a step away from him.
“We will now proceed to the Greeting Hall.”
The lift started to move, dropping three floors and then changing direction and moving forwards. The change of motion surprised Ben and his body jerked backwards, slapping his head against the glass behind him.
“The change of direction can take you by surprise,” remarked Astra blandly. “There are hand grips embedded into the bench for your convenience.”
“And you couldn’t have mentioned that a little earlier?” muttered Ben. “What kind of a lift is this anyway?”
“You don’t have them in your culture?” asked Astra.
“Yes, but as the name suggests they go up and down, not side to side.”
“We call these bubbles, Mr. Burton, it was you who called them lifts,” replied Astra. “It was obviously not the correct translation.”
Ben studied her face for any sign of the insolence that he somehow felt was behind her words. Her expression was as bland as always and he was left uncertain. Senator Burton looked from one to the other and decided that it was time to interrupt.
“Could you tell us what we can expect at the Greeting Hall, Astra? Are there any customs we should be aware of so that we don’t unintentionally offend the Councillors?”
Astra gave the question a few moments consideration before shaking her head.
“No. The events that have been prepared for your entertainment are of a social nature that will display the Tula culture to you, it will be very informal.”
A few minutes later Ben recalled these words with a heavy dose of sarcasm. The Greeting Hall was in a stone part of the building. Its glittering black walls stretched up to a vaulted ceiling from which hung huge black and white chandeliers. There was a large circular table set with black cutlery against a white glass surface that held pride of place in the centre of the room. Ben had little doubt that the room was intended to overawe everyone who entered it. He was used to opulent surroundings but even he found the room oppressive and uncomfortable.
There was nothing soft in its construction or decoration, in fact, it was quite the reverse. It seemed as though the room’s design, the use of cold stone and hard glass, was there to rid any who entered of the idea that the Tula might be soft or flexible.
Now that he came to think about it everything about the Tula was a little like that. Their clothes were nothing more than a uniform that suppressed individuality. Men wore long jackets that fell halfway between waist and knee, their hair oiled and smoothed straight back from their foreheads. The women wore a skirt suit with their hair cut in short asymmetrical styles, never longer than shoulder length, with black eye shadow and beige lipstick.
As a nation they lived and worked behind transparent glass, always watched by others. That in itself was a form of behavioural suppression. They were all Va Dic something or other, further perpetuating the idea that they were all the same. They called one another by their first names regardless of age and station, creating a feeling that all were equal.
Except, of course, for the Councillors. They were a little bit more ‘equal’ than everyone else, thought Ben wryly.
And then there was Astra.
Ben looked to where she was seated, just the other side of Councillor Ladron. Her eyes were respectfully downcast, her posture submissive and unobtrusive.
That customary stillness was beginning to get on Ben’s nerves.
It would be very difficult to persuade information out of someone who habitually refused to meet his eyes. He couldn’t guess what she was thinking when she didn’t look at him. He studied the blue on her jacket, realising that it seemed even more unusual now than it had before. In fact, now it smacked of outright rebellion. His glance moved up to her hair and he suspected that, when unpinned from those sculpted confines, it would be very long indeed.
A waitress appeared at his elbow, ready to place a loaded tray in front of him. He smiled at her. As she straightened he saw Councillor Ladron’s eyes upon him and added a sly wink at the girl for good measure.
The tray before him was filled with shaped white ceramic containers that fitted together rather like a jigsaw puzzle. Each one contained a different dish. There was chicken, fish and several other kinds of meat along with soup. Another smaller tray filled with deserts was placed to the left of the first and another to his right that contained liquid refreshment.
“Is there something wrong, Mr. Burton?” asked Councillor Ladron, seeing Ben hesitate.
Ben swallowed convulsively. He hated to say anything knowing that others would make use of his weakness but there was no option to keep it quiet.
“I – uh – are there any nuts or shellfish in these dishes?”
Councillor Ladron looked towards Astra.
“There is shellfish in the rice and nuts in several of the marinades, Reverend Councillor.”
Ben subjected the food before him to minute scrutiny; he could feel his palms beginning to itch.
> “Would you be so kind as to have them removed from my – er – tray?” he asked.
Astra rose from her seat and, with a wave of her hand, called one of the waiting girls to her side. She moved several of the dishes from in front of him to the tray that the girl held waiting and then bowed.
“Forgive us for this oversight Mr. Burton. Is there anything you wish to request from the kitchens?”
Ben looked down at the tray reflecting that even in its depleted state it could feed a family of four.
“No, this will be fine.” He looked up to find that it was one of the rare occasions when she was meeting his eyes, and winked lazily. “Sorry for making such a big deal out of this, but nuts and shellfish bring me out in a rash.”
Among other things, he added silently to himself.
He watched Astra’s face lose its slightly gentler expression and become blank, her lids lowering to shield her gaze from his view.
“I will inform the Kitchens immediately, Mr. Burton; this will not be a problem again.”
Again Ben caught a fleeting glimmer of gold around her wrist and recalled that he had seen a matching bracelet on the other wrist when she had been removing the dishes from his tray. She returned to sit next to Councillor Ladron and stared down at her hands.
The table before her was empty.
“Aren’t you hungry, Miss Toban?” asked Senator Burton courteously.
There was the slightest of pauses and Ben had the strangest fancy that everyone held their breath.
“I am not yet ready to eat, Senator Burton.”
Ben exchanged a look with his father as the tension in the room subsided.
What was going on now?
Although Astra’s reply had been calm he had seen the same stiffness creep into her frame that he had noticed before, when she was attempting to avoid his questions.
Obviously she wasn’t skipping the meal due to a diet.
“Do you intend to accompany your father on his official duties, Mr. Burton?” asked one of the women sitting across from him.
Her name was Beris Va Dic Zorrenson and Ben had already decided that she was a dragon. She was built on large lines, but thin for all that. Her iron-grey hair was cut very short, and the black of her suit highlighted the pallor of her skin. She was Councillor for the health sector, and looking at her, Ben fervently hoped he would never end up in her care. He wondered how any of the Tula dared to get ill.
“It’s not really my thing; I’m more of a recreational minded kind of guy.” Ben looked to the pretty serving girls lined up against the far wall. “Which reminds me, I was meaning to ask Councillor Valdin if he could suggest some activities?”
The short, decidedly portly Councillor that presided over the recreational sector lowered his fork with a genial smile, causing an extra chin to develop on his fat neck.
“There are certainly a great many things that you shouldn’t miss; I’ll send a list to your viewer for tomorrow,” he promised.
Ben thanked him.
“Of course things are always much more fun when you have company,” he continued, smiling at Astra.
Astra Uel Ne Toban was obviously a very large skeleton in the Tula High Council’s closet, and what better way to get to the bottom of this mystery than to talk to the skeleton directly? Ben took a sip of his coffee, it was hotter than he’d thought and it burnt his mouth. Setting the cup back down, he brought a napkin to his burning lips. Catching sight of the food in front of him, he frowned.
He hadn’t wanted to make such a fuss about his allergies; he knew they were a weakness he could ill afford and that Councillor Ladron would use it against him without remorse. He began to wonder if he shouldn’t have downplayed it as he had. Councillor Ladron might very well think nothing of making him sick but he would be very surprised when his allergies killed him.
Ben suffered from a rare hypersensitivity inherited from his mother. It caused his throat to swell affecting his breathing and made him vomit. All in all, the rash was the least of his troubles.
“You’re quite right, Mr. Burton,” Councillor Ladron mused. “I have often noted that experiences are far richer when shared. We will have to find you a suitable companion.”
Ben tried not to let his disbelief that Councillor Ladron had any finer feelings show.
“My son would be only too willing to act as Mr. Burton’s guide.” Councillor Sendel inclined his head, placing his hand over his heart.
Councillor Ladron didn’t move his gaze from Ben and Ben began to find the unwavering, slightly thoughtful, stare unnerving.
“I don’t think that Narim is properly… equipped… for such an endeavour.” Ladron smiled vaguely. “Astra will accompany you Mr. Burton. You will find there is very little she doesn’t know about our history, and I’m sure she’ll be generous with her knowledge.”
Ben felt a chill ease its way down his spine, and he revised his opinion that Councillor Ladron was dangerous. He was a deadly man, and Ben suddenly didn’t think that getting on the wrong side of him was advisable. He was manipulative and chillingly premeditated. He had decided that Astra was to be a casualty of war, and had then deliberately placed her in the path of destruction.
Ben suddenly realised that the room was too quiet and, on looking around the table, found that the Councillors were inspecting their food as though their lives depended on it. It occurred to him that they probably did.
“That would be great. If she doesn’t mind, of course; I wouldn't want to cause her any inconvenience.”
Councillor Ladron smiled slowly.
“It would be no inconvenience, would it, Astra?”
“No, Reverend Councillor,” responded Astra immediately.
“Then it’s settled.”
Councillor Ladron turned his attention back to his meal with renewed appetite, but Ben’s desire for food had fled.
What was Councillor Ladron hiding, and why was he so certain that Ben was going to discover it? It wasn’t as though he was being subtle in his wish to keep Ben occupied. More than that; why was Astra going along with this? Councillor Ladron had sought to storm the gates of his and his father’s approval over her fallen body, and she had calmly sat by and watched.
Ben saw Councillor Ladron make a small gesture, and immediately Astra lifted the teapot, and poured him a fresh cup. Ladron didn’t acknowledge the move, but continued his conversation uninterrupted.
Reverend Councillor?
What kind of an ego trip was that?
Ben felt his temper beginning to fray, and clenched his hands into fists under the table. There was something seriously wrong here, and he was going to find out what it was if it killed him. He needed to find out just what sort of people the Free Nation was getting itself involved with.
But whatever he found out; would it make any difference in the end? They had no choice but to form the alliance. There were only two options: war or peace, with no middle ground. War was out of the question, so it would have to be peace.
Ben wondered how dirty their hands would be when this finally reached its end.